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I snap back to reality, looking up to meet a set of gorgeous, aqua eyes. Only then do I notice how fast I’m breathing. My chest is raising up and down, my hands shaking like leaves.
Not. Enough. Air.
“Vee, what’s going on?” he asks again when I don’t reply.
Not because I don’t want to.
Because I can’t.
The words on my tongue explode into tiny fragments, lodging themselves deep inside my throat. That’s when I understand that I’m having an anxiety attack. And I need to get a grip before the police officer reaches the car.
I open my mouth once more, wanting to tell him, “My mom can’t know about this”but barely managing a squeaky, “M-My mom.” Thankfully, that seems to be enough explanation for him because Xavier nods, glancing at the cop car pulling up behind us in the mirror.
We’re running out of time.
Then he says the last thing I expected.
“Breathe with me.”
I blink at him, my poor heart doing a whole-ass backflip when he reaches for my trembling fingers and takes my hand. His hand feels warm. Reassuring. It’s big, too. Much bigger than mine.
But I still can’t fucking breathe.
This can’t be happening.
Here I thought my anxiety attacks were over. I haven’t had one this bad since my dad’s birthday last year.
“Vee, look at me, I’m here.” Xavier tilts my chin up with his index. “You’re not alone.”
He has no idea how wrong he is about that.
No idea.
“Just breathe with me, all right?” he instructs and inhales deeply.
Slowly.
It takes everything in me to match his tempo, but after a few minutes, I manage to pull a miracle out of nowhere and discipline my speedy pulse.
I breathe in.
Breathe out.
Over and over again.
Until, finally, I regain a semblance of calm.
“You going to be okay?” Xavier worries. “Just say the word and we’ll work something out.” The way he says it causes an unknown, gut-wrenching feeling to stir in my chest.
I never, in a million years, would’ve suspected that there was such kindness in this boy. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who’s been bedding cheerleaders left and right.
“I mean it, Vee. I’ll just tell him you’re having an anxiety attack or something. We—”
“Xav, I’m okay,” I choke out. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t seem convinced but reluctantly nods, squeezing my fingers one last time before unlinking his hand from mine.
I miss the warmth instantly.
